


Sour Grapes

by writesometimes



Category: Psych
Genre: Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Lassiter is confused, M/M, Pining, Shawn dotes on Lassiter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:18:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesometimes/pseuds/writesometimes
Summary: Shawn absolutely was not panicking. That was ridiculous. There was nothing for him to panic over. Lassiter was having a possibly reconciliatory dinner with his ex-wife. Why would he panic? It wasn't like Lassiter was his. It wasn't like Shawn had spent numerous years getting to know the head detective and his odd quirks and his crazy blue eyes and sternbush and never-ending desire for justice and how he took his coffee and... oh.





	Sour Grapes

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be relatively short. I'm not quite sure what happened.

Shawn climbed out of Gus' blue hatchback and felt gravel crunch beneath his sneakers. The SBPD had requested the services of the Psych team for a murder on the more rural side of town. There wasn't much surrounding the location. A gas station a few miles up the road and some far flung neighbors were the only things around.

"Man, this is a pretty large vineyard," Gus said as he came to stand beside his best friend, scanning the area around them.

Shawn took a deep breath and looked around himself. The gravel driveway they stood on lead to a modest ranch-style home surrounded by numerous grapevines. There must have been hundreds of the plants. It must have looked charming and inviting under different circumstances. Shawn spotted the telltale bright yellow tape of a crime scene in a group of grapevines off to the left of the house.

"I sense that's where we are needed," Shawn said pointing to the taped off area. Gus rolled his eyes and followed him out to the crime scene.

Immediately Shawn's eyes went to the older man sprawled out face-down in the dirt, surrounded by numerous grapevines. He took a quick glance around the scene. The man still had gardening gloves on, an expensive coat and pair of work boots despite the warmth of the afternoon, and a gold pocket watch chain hung out of his front pocket. There was a small pool of blood up near his chest. A light set of footprints led away from the body, deeper into the extensive maze of grapevines. He put his hand to his temple and began humming loudly.

"The plants! They're speaking to me. They were this man's life. Early mornings spent out tending to them. Year after year, season after season. But this morning," Shawn drifted dramatically toward a mess of vines and leaves, "This morning there was senseless violence! The plants demand answers!"

Gus suppressed a deep sigh and looked over at the group of crime scene technicians who were flanked by Lassiter and Juliet. The blonde watched, fascinated. The lanky head detective had his usual scowl imprinted on his face.

"Pretty good information for plants," Juliet said smiling over at Shawn. "That's the owner of this vineyard, Travis Daniels. He's owned this place for thirty years, devoted his whole life to the grapes out here."

Shawn grinned smugly and was about to verbally pat himself on the back when Lassiter cut in. "The plants. The plants gave you information. On a murder. There's no way you saw a dead guy in a field and just, I don't know, put the pieces together?" The head detective glared at Shawn from behind his mirrored aviators.

"Lassie, this very well could have been a _Godfather_ situation where the old man goes out to tend his garden and had a heart attack. The plants are invaluable witnesses," Shawn explained evenly.

Lassiter sighed and snatched the aviators from his face. "Because heart attacks leave pools of blood and bullet casings."

Shawn sniffed once and looked around at the vines surrounding them. "I can't afford to make assumptions at a scene, Lassie. I have to let the spirits guide me."

"So grapes have spirits now?"

"Lassie, everything in the universe can find a way to communicate with you if you are as gifted as I am."

"Who found the body?" Gus interjected in exasperation.

"The wife, Susan. When he didn't come in by noon she came out looking for him. She found him here and called the police," Juliet offered succinctly.

"The grapes have more information! This wasn't just some messy robbery. The person who did this was familiar. They knew their way around the vineyard, knew how to escape the plant maze!" Shawn stumbled over to the footprints leading away from the body, as if he'd been shoved hard. He looked down at the dirt and shrieked.

Lassiter and Juliet looked down and saw the footprints for themselves. "Son of a bitch. Who missed these? A whole team out here and no one noticed the footprints _leaving the body_? Come on!" Lassiter shouted loudly. Every crime scene tech's head turned to stare at him. He sighed deeply and straightened out his tie. "I don't have time for this," he groused and glanced down at his watch.

Shawn cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Hot date tonight, Lassie?" he teased.

Lassiter cleared his throat. His fingers twitched at his side and his face went a little pink but he said nothing. Shawn read his body language instantly. "Oh my god! You totally _do_  have a date tonight, don't you?"

Lassiter frowned deeply and put his aviators back on. "My personal life is none of anyone's business," he barked.

"That's not a no," Shawn countered slyly.

Juliet and Gus stared at Lassiter expectantly. He stared back for a moment before he finally grew impatient. "Can we just focus on the _crime scene_  in front of us?"

"I kind of agree with Lassiter," Gus supplied, "Maybe this isn't the most... respectful place to have a conversation like this? Also, I'd like to get away from, you know, the _dead body_."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, we can talk about Lassie's love life later then. Your killer knew your victim and his daily routine and how to get off the property without being seen. Have fun with that." He nudged Gus with his elbow and began walking back to the Blueberry.

"You're really just gonna leave a scene that easy? Are you feeling okay?" Gus asked.

"We have another case to prep for, man!"

"We absolutely do not, Shawn. I would know if we had been hired for another case. I'm the one that handles _all_  the bookings for Psych and --"

"We have to crack the case of who Lassie's mystery date is, Gus!" Shawn cut in excitedly as he opened the passenger door of the Blueberry.

Gus stopped in his tracks. "Absolutely not, Shawn! The man carries a firearm at all times. Are you nuts? You wanna pry into his personal business?"

"Aren't you curious to see what kind of person agrees to a date with Lassie?" Shawn asked as he ducked into the hatchback.

Gus cocked his head to the side and raised his brows. He fished his keys from his pocket and plopped down in the driver's seat. "Okay. We do a _bit_  of snooping. But we absolutely cannot get caught."

"Yes!" Shawn cried, throwing his fist in the air triumphantly.

Gus sighed and started the car.

* * *

Shawn tossed a third empty capri-sun down on his desk. After an hour of scouring numerous dating sites, neither he nor Gus had found a profile for Lassiter. It was infuriating Shawn. "How can this be? It's not like Lassie could meet a person in actual every day real life and they would agree to go on a date with him. Right? Gus that's crazy, right?"

Gus hummed from behind his computer monitor. "I don't know. Stranger things  _have_  happened. There's no trace of him on any dating site so... I think we should just give up on operation 'Lassie's mystery date' and work on the real case we're capable of getting paid for." He swiveled in his office chair and looked at Shawn.

"You're absolutely right, Gus. Lassie wouldn't be caught dead online dating. We should just follow him tonight so we can see this train wreck unfold in person!" Shawn jumped up from his office chair excitedly. "If he hasn't left the precinct yet he'll be easy to follow!"

Gus squinted at his best friend. "Why do you care so much about who Lassie is taking on a date?"

Shawn's eyes darted down and started searching through the trash littering his desk. "Just curious. Aren't you?" he asked quietly, crinkling a candy wrapper under his fingers.

"We have an actual _paying_  case to work, Shawn. A murder to solve. Remember? We should be focusing on that." Gus stood and crossed the office to grab what scant case notes he'd made off the coffee table.

"We didn't even interview the widow today, we have a lot of stuff to catch up on."

Shawn sighed dramatically. "You could go over those four pages of notes on our way to follow Lassie. And we can probably catch the widow at the precinct tomorrow, I doubt they're done questioning her. We can just interview her then. Come on, Gus, this is better than any movie marathon we could throw together tonight. This is Lassie. _On a date_."

Gus slapped his notes back down onto the coffee table. "You're not going to shut up about this until I give in and spy on Lassiter, are you?"

"Nope." Shawn said simply.

"Fine. _Fine_ ," Gus rolled his eyes as he grabbed his keys off his desk and headed for the door.

Forty five minutes of frantic driving later, Shawn and Gus were finally parked outside one of the nicer restaurants in Santa Barbara. Table cloths and candles and a wine list, the whole nine yards. Shawn was mildly impressed.

They had broken numerous traffic laws trying to follow Lassiter from the precinct without being seen, and had somehow been successful. Gus sat in the driver's seat, arms crossed, and glared at Shawn. "Are you happy now?"

Shawn pulled a small pair of binoculars from a pocket inside his jacket. Gus gaped at him. "I'm very happy, Gus. You're not pumped we're gonna see this date totally bomb? Live and in person?"

"What happens if the date goes well? What happens if his date is totally into him and they go home together tonight and they end up together forever? What are you gonna do then, Shawn?"

Shawn laughed and continued squinting through his binoculars. "Don't be ridiculous, Gus. Lassie has the charm of a wet blanket." He spied Lassiter at a small table, back to the wall with a clear view of the door. Cop instincts didn't rest for date night. Shawn could actually appreciate that.

Gus furrowed his brow. "Why are you so invested in this, anyway?"

"Pshhh," Shawn hissed, "Invested?"

"We're sitting in my car spying on Lassiter's date through a restaurant window. You have binoculars, Shawn."

Just as Shawn was crafting a response, a brunette woman breezed into the restaurant and took the seat opposite Lassiter. Shawn couldn't see her face, but he saw Lassiter light up when she sat down. "Shhhhh, shhh. She's here. And she looks normal?" Shawn muttered.

The pair exchanged some words at the table and Lassiter seemed very happy. The woman nodded a few times and Lassiter appeared to order wine. The woman looked around the restaurant and Shawn caught a quick glimpse of the side of her face and _was that Victoria_?

"Is that Victoria?" Shawn asked, shoving the binoculars towards Gus.

Gus pulled the binoculars to his face and scanned the restaurant. Finally he found the detective and his date. He waited a moment to catch a glimpse of the woman's face. "Oh my god, I think it is."

Shawn slapped him on the chest repeatedly, silently demanding the binoculars back. Gus handed them over and stared through the windshield. "Are they getting back together? When did this happen? He didn't say anything. What?" Shawn rambled as he glared through the binoculars.

"Are you... panicking? Shawn?"

Shawn took a deep breath and pulled the binoculars away from his face. He absolutely _was not panicking_. That was ridiculous. There was nothing for him to panic over. Lassiter was having a possibly reconciliatory dinner with his ex-wife. Why would he panic? It wasn't like Lassiter was _his_. It wasn't like Shawn had spent numerous years getting to know the head detective and his odd quirks and his crazy blue eyes and sternbush and never-ending desire for justice and how he took his coffee and... oh.

"Oh," Shawn whispered. Gus shot a confused look Shawn's way. He stared down into his lap. Maybe he _was_  panicking. He brought the binoculars back to his face watched the detective. Lassiter chuckled about something and took a sip of his wine. He seemed so happy. Shawn felt like an ass. "Let's go, Gus. This just feels weird now," he said in defeat.

Gus hummed thoughtfully beside him and started the car. At the same moment Victoria slid an envelope across the table. "Wait! Wait. She just gave him an envelope." Gus sighed and let the car idle.

Shawn kept watching as Lassiter opened the envelope. He scrunched his face up, his genuine smile long forgotten. The man looked at his ex-wife with a hint of shock and slapped the papers down on the table.

Shawn chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn't sure what was worse. Watching Lassiter have a reconciliatory date with his ex-wife, or watching the reconciliatory dinner fall apart before the man's very eyes.

Brusquely, Lassiter pulled a pen from inside his sport coat and signed one of the papers before throwing his cloth napkin on the table and exiting the restaurant.

"Well, looks like you got your train wreck," Gus stated flatly.

"Yeah. Let's just go," Shawn muttered under his breath.

Gus pulled away from the restaurant as Shawn watched Lassiter angrily fling his own car door open in the parking lot and plop down inside the sedan. Watching the train wreck live and in person had been far more depressing than Shawn had anticipated. He sighed deeply and threw his head back against the seat.

* * *

The next day Gus dragged Shawn to the precinct in hopes of catching Travis Daniels' widow there for an interview. Shawn shuffled slowly into the building and leaned against a wall. He was dreading seeing Lassiter. He seriously doubted anyone knew anything about the detective's failed date with his ex-wife, and in a way he felt bad that _he_  knew anything about it. He'd watched Lassiter's night blow up in his face and he couldn't even commiserate with him about it without admitting he'd invaded his privacy.

Juliet approached Gus and Shawn and smiled pleasantly. "Hey, you have a break in the case already?" she asked.

Gus smiled warmly at her and waited for Shawn to answer. When he said nothing, Gus spoke up. "We're still working angles. Shawn, uh, said the spirits needed him to come down to the precinct though," he said, elbowing Shawn hard in the side.

The 'psychic' blinked rapidly and nodded at Juliet. "Yes, sorry Jules, it was such a strong message it drained me of my usually effervescent energy. I just had to come down here right away." He shot her a confident smile and looked around the precinct. "Where's, uh, where's Lassie?"

"He's talking to Mr. Daniels' widow. We had some more questions for her so she came in today," Juliet explained.

Shawn discreetly fist-bumped his best friend. "That must be why I was drawn here. I have to talk to her," he said seriously to the blonde.

Juliet nodded seriously. "I'll see if Lassiter is done talking to her." She turned and quickly disappeared down a hall towards the interrogation rooms. She returned in short order with the widow and Lassiter in tow.

"Mrs. Daniels, this is Shawn Spencer. He's a psychic that works cases for the department from time to time. And this is his partner --"

"Burton Guster," Gus cut in before Shawn could get even a syllable out.

Shawn glared at him briefly before shaking the woman's hand. "Mrs. Daniels, I'm sensing your husband was deeply connected to your vineyard. It was his life's work, wasn't it? The grapes much like another family member for him, weren't they?"

Susan Daniels nodded tearfully. "My god, yes. He loved the grapes. It wasn't just about selling them to the highest bidder and making connections with the wineries. He had passion for growing the best grapes he could. He loved to be outside, tending to those plants."

Shawn hummed low and steered the widow, Gus and Juliet toward an empty break room. He noticed Lassiter did not follow and only plodded back to his desk.

"Was your husband in the middle of any deals with wineries at the time of his death?" he asked gently, putting the head detective out of his mind for the time being.

Susan shook her head. "We had already sold all of the best grapes we had to wineries this season. He was mostly just working on regular upkeep of the vineyard, trying to make sure everything was ready for the next harvest." She blew her nose delicately and frowned down at her hands.

Gus handed her a fresh tissue and smiled sympathetically at her. "Ma'am, forgive me, but how was your relationship with your husband?"

"We were happy, truly. We'd been married for thirty years, we bought the vineyard shortly after we married. We raised our children there. It was wonderful. He was such a hard worker and a lovely man. I can't believe this has happened." She broke down into sobs and Gus patted her shoulder gently.

"How many children do you have?" Shawn asked carefully.

"Three. Our son and two daughters. They're all grown and out of the house now. My daughter, Jennifer, just got married," Susan said with a watery smile.

Shawn bit the inside of his cheek. He felt genuinely bad for the woman. By all outward appearances her husband had been a good man, deeply loved by his wife, and didn't deserve what happened to him. "We're gonna do whatever we can, okay, Mrs. Daniels?"

The woman nodded and wiped her eyes. Shawn shot Gus a pointed look and Gus led the woman out of the break room gingerly.

"Anything on the kids?" Shawn asked Juliet once Gus and Susan were out of the room.

"One son, Jacob, and two daughters, Jennifer and Allison. They all still live here in Santa Barbara. Jennifer is the only one who's married," Juliet supplied.

Shawn nodded slowly, brain working through all the information he'd just gotten. He'd more than likely need to talk to all of the children, but starting with the new son-in-law would probably be best. He'd be more willing to talk about any family problems that might have been lurking in the Daniels' closet. "Any address for Jennifer and her new husband?" he asked.

Juliet nodded and headed out to her desk, Shawn following closely behind. Lassiter sat at the desk opposite the Juliet's, frown etched deep into his face. Shawn watched him carefully. He almost seemed to be spacing out _at work_. Shawn winced. "Hey, Lassie, no creative insults for yours truly today?" he joked lightly.

"Not in the mood, Spencer," Lassiter barked back.

Juliet handed Shawn a piece of paper and led him back to the precinct doors. "He's been in a mood all day, I don't know why. We just picked up this case I can't see him being stressed over it already. He's already snapped at me twice today. Once I was just asking him to lunch! I'm kinda worried I did something to offend him."

Shawn gave her a supportive smile. "I sense it has nothing to do with you, Jules. In fact, I sense it's something deeply personal. Probably best if you just leave him be for a while."

Juliet glanced back at her partner quickly. "Yeah, you're probably right. I just wish he would, I don't know, open up to someone. He's my partner and I worry, you know?"

Shawn nodded in agreement. "You're a good detective, Jules, and he's lucky to have you for a partner. Just give him some space right now. His whole aura is clouded, he needs time to work out what's going on," he said seriously.

Juliet smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Shawn. I hope you're right."

"I'm psychic!" he called back as he walked through the doors of the precinct.

* * *

Gus put the Blueberry in park as he and Shawn arrived at the address listed for Jennifer and Sam Martin. "This is the place," he said as he glanced down at the paper Juliet had given Shawn earlier. Shawn nodded once and made his way to the front door, Gus following behind.

A woman in her mid-twenties answered. Her red rimmed eyes told Shawn that she had to be Jennifer. He introduced himself and entered the home. A large man came down the stairs slowly as they all stood in the entryway. Sam, Shawn surmised. Jennifer made the necessary introductions.

"We're going to do everything we can to help your family," Shawn said gently, patting Jennifer on the shoulder. Her husband was silent at her side. He didn't even reach out to comfort her as she began crying in earnest. Shawn made a mental note of it and continued on. "Is there anything you could tell me about your dad and his vineyard?"

Jennifer sniffled. "Not that I can think of. I didn't really get into much of the business side of the vineyard. I mostly just helped dad with the vines when I still lived at home," she shrugged, defeated.

"Do you know if your dad ever thought about selling the place? Or maybe retiring?" Gus asked as he stepped forward. Jennifer shook her head.

Shawn focused on Sam. "Could I borrow your husband Mrs. Martin?" Jennifer consented and Shawn let the man lead the way to the living room as Gus hung behind, asking Jennifer more topical questions.

"Sam, right?" Shawn began. The man nodded. "So, Sam... were you close at all to your father-in-law?"

Sam shifted his weight and put his hands in his pockets. He was being guarded about something. "I mean, as close as you can be to your father-in-law. He approved of me marrying Jennifer, so what more could I really want, you know?"

Shawn nodded slowly. "Did you ever hear him talk about the vineyard, any business deals?"

"No, never. He wasn't very interested in talking about business. He was always more focused on the plants. Never really made sense to me, personally. I mean, he was sitting on a gold mine out there, you know? He could have retired in a few years and sold the place to a winery and been very comfortable. But he just wanted to keep working the land."

Shawn narrowed his eyes for a split second and then smiled sympathetically. "I sensed he was very devoted to the plants."

Sam studied Shawn carefully and let out a short breath. "Yeah, he was. Sometimes it was maddening but that was just Travis."

Shawn hummed thoughtfully and thanked the man before heading back into the entryway. He bid farewell to the young couple and walked back to the car with Gus.

"She seems pretty shaken up by all of this. I don't think she did it. Or was even involved," Gus offered seriously.

"The husband almost immediately brought up money. Specifically how much the vineyard was worth. He didn't seem too distraught over the death of his father-in-law either." Shawn glared out the passenger window at the home they had just left. "I think we need to check him out a little more."

Gus nodded silently and started the car. "Should we take this to Lassiter and Juliet?" he asked as he pulled away from the curb.

Shawn mulled it over for a moment. He thought back to Lassiter's scowl earlier at the precinct. "No, I think we should get more info on the son-in-law. I don't want to go to the precinct until we have something more than a hunch."

Gus' eyebrows shot up but he kept his voice even. "Really? _You_  don't want to go throw yourself around the precinct with nothing but a gut feeling and a Red Bull high? Is this because of your little 'Lassie stakeout' last night?"

Shawn pulled a ball of fuzz off his pants. "No. Not really. Not _entirely_. Did you see him pouting earlier though? It was... pitiful. I mean, no one else knows why he's moping. Shit, _we_  aren't supposed to know why he's moping. I just. I feel bad for him, you know? But it's not like I can exactly ask him what happened at his disastrous dinner with his ex-wife." Shawn realized he was rambling so he snapped his mouth shut and stared hard out the window.

Silence overtook the small hatchback. Gus knew _something_  was up with his best friend but he wasn't sure exactly what it was. Shawn had been consumed by Lassie's mystery date, and when it had failed spectacularly Gus had expected him to give up the fascination and move on. But he hadn't. Now he was consumed with feeling _bad_  for the detective. Which was... new. Gus decided he'd wait it out and let Shawn tell him what was going on when he figured it out himself.

They arrived at their office and got to work digging up any and all information on Sam Martin. He'd graduated high school in San Diego, college in Monterey. He came from an upper middle class family, one older brother. There was really nothing that stood out about him.

Shawn yawned loudly across the office. "I think we could probably pick this up in the morning. It's not like he's gonna leave town, it'd look too weird."

Gus glanced at the clock. "It's barely after ten-thirty!"

"Don't be the mangled Pringle at the bottom of the can, Gus. I'm exhausted and I need my beauty rest. This hair doesn't happen on accident, okay? It needs to rest too," Shawn bemoaned loudly.

Gus exited out of his web browser and shut down his desktop. "Whatever, Shawn. I have work to do for my _real_  job anyway."

"You know it hurts me when you talk that way about our life's work here at Psych," Shawn chided.

Gus rolled his eyes as he exited the office. Perfect. Shawn had somewhere to be and he was pretty sure he still had time.

* * *

Shawn's bike came to a stop out front of Tom Blair's pub around eleven. He'd had a hunch he would find Lassiter there, so when he spotted his Ford in the parking lot Shawn patted himself on the back. He breezed through the front door of the bar and made a beeline to the lanky man sitting at the bar with his head hanging in his hands.

"Lassie! Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world -- " Shawn trailed off wistfully.

Lassiter turned unsteadily on his barstool and scowled at Shawn. "Spencer. What the hell do you want?"

Shawn squinted as the strong smell of bourbon rolled from Lassiter's lips to his face. "How, uh, how much you been drinking tonight, Lassie?"

"Enough. I'm cutting you off, Carlton. Sober up. Call a cab," the bartender barked as he set a glass of water in front of the detective.

Shawn quirked a brow at the burly man. How did he know Lassiter's first name? How long had the detective been at the bar? How often did he visit the place? Shawn reached over and clapped Lassiter on the back heartily. "It's all good. I can drive him home, thanks man." The bartender grunted in what Shawn assumed was gratitude and he smiled.

"Lassie? _Lassie_? Where's your wallet, dude? You gotta pay your tab so we can get you home."

Lassiter started patting his way down his torso to his lap. He pulled his wallet from the pocket of his slacks and slapped some money down on the bar. "I can call a cab, Spencer. I really don't want to listen to you babble on and on tonight," he slurred angrily.

Shawn was about to feign offense when the detective nearly took a head dive straight into the tile floor trying to get off his barstool. He reached out and righted the other man. "Sure you can, buddy. Or, instead of sitting here for twenty minutes trying to unlock your phone like a confused lemur, you could just give me your keys and I could take you home."

"I'm not giving you my keys."

Shawn ignored him entirely and patted his torso. He felt the man's car keys in his sport coat pocket. Deftly, he unbuttoned the coat and snatched the keys from the inner pocket. "If you're too drunk to prevent me from doing that, you definitely need my assistance tonight."

Lassiter groaned loudly. Shawn shook his keys in his face. "Fine," Lassiter relented at last. Shawn grinned and helped the man out to his car. The parking lot was dimly lit and the two awkwardly stumbled over the pavement, but eventually they found Lassiter's sedan. Shawn dumped the detective in the passenger seat as gently as he could.

"Rough night?" Shawn asked as he finally climbed into the driver's seat. Lassiter didn't respond, he looked half asleep already. Shawn reached over and put the man's seat belt on him. "You better wake up when we get to your house, dude. There's no way I can drag your ass to your door."

Lassiter mumbled something incomprehensible and Shawn started the car. It wasn't a long ride to Lassiter's place, but the silence made it feel like an eternity. Once they were parked out front of the detective's house Shawn shook his shoulder violently. "I'm serious, dude, I can't drag you to your door. You gotta help me here, Lassie."

Lassiter jerked forward, forgetting his seat belt was still buckled. Shawn chuckled to himself and helped him undo the seat belt. "I kinda wish I had video of this moment right now so I would have actual evidence when I tell this story to _everyone_  at the precinct later."

Lassiter scrubbed his hand down his face. "Whatever, Spencer."

Shawn frowned. The whole reason he'd gone to the bar was to try and make Lassiter feel a tiny bit better, and here he was, making him feel worse. He sighed as he got out the car and headed for the passenger door. "Come on, let's get you inside," he coaxed as he pulled the detective from the car.

The pair stumbled up the walk to Lassiter's front door. It took Shawn a few tries but he finally found Lassiter's house key and got them inside. He deposited the man on his couch and tossed his keys on his dining room table. Fumbling through the dark, he found a lamp on an end table and flipped it on. It cast the room in soft yellow light and shadows. Shawn could see how bloodshot Lassiter's eyes already were. Quietly, he made his way into the kitchen.

A few minutes later Shawn re-emerged in the living room with a glass of water and two painkillers. "Drink this. Take these. You're gonna feel like shit tomorrow, man."

Lassiter sat up slowly on the couch and held his hand out. Shawn dropped the two pills in his hand and then gave him the glass of water. Lassiter tossed the pills in his mouth and chugged the whole glass of water, scowling the entire time. The empty glass thudded down loudly on his coffee table. "Please leave," he spat out contemptuously.

"Oh, thanks for the ride home, Shawn. And putting up with my drunk ass. And dragging me to my front door. You're too good to walk amongst us mere mortals," Shawn groused in a falsetto voice.

Lassiter threw himself back against the couch and sighed. "I can't do this with you right now."

On unsteady feet, Shawn moved closer to the couch. He glanced down at Lassiter and then over at the empty cushion next to him. With dumb courage, he plopped himself down next to the detective on his couch. "What's up with you lately?" He tried for casual but he knew he sounded more concerned than he wanted to.

Lassiter looked at him and blinked slowly. He wasn't screaming at Shawn to get off his couch so he took that as a good sign. Maybe he _wanted_  to open up to someone. He reached over slowly and loosened Lassiter's tie. Lassiter just watched his hands scramble at the knot.

"Why are you here?" Lassiter slurred in confusion.

Shawn raised his hand to his temple, hand quaking. "The spirits told me you needed help and I let them guide me to where you were, Lassie!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and then turned away from Shawn. He sunk his head into the back of the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. "Cut the shit, Spencer, I'm not dealing with it tonight." He sighed deeply and rubbed at his temples. He just wanted to pass out on his couch already, why couldn't Shawn see that?

"Lassiter, what happened?"

The use of his full last name got the detective's attention. Somewhere in his bourbon-soaked brain a voice was telling him to just tell Shawn what happened so he would leave. So he rolled his head to the side and looked at the other man and took a deep breath.

"Victoria called me the other day, said she wanted to see me. I stupidly thought she _missed_  me. So I agreed to go to dinner with her. I thought this was it, you know? She was gonna come back and we were gonna be a couple again. But I, uh, showed up to dinner and she just handed me a stack of papers. I sold our camper a few months ago and she wanted half the profits. I hadn't used it in years and figured what the hell? Didn't think she'd come looking for money after all this time, but I should have known. She'd never want to take me back." Lassiter shrugged and frowned at the man sharing his couch with him.

Shawn didn't move. Didn't breathe. Lassiter had actually told him. He was shocked. A wry chuckle from the other man brought Shawn back to the moment.

"Lassie, I'm so sorry. That's shitty. She should have just been honest about why she wanted to meet you, that's _really_  shitty. Like getting frozen in carbonite in an unfortunate pose shitty."

Lassiter hummed and pulled his loosened tie from around his neck. "Don't, uh, go telling everyone at the precinct?" He sounded absolutely gutted.

Shawn reached over and patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Nah, man, I'm not gonna do that. It's cool, Lassie, details of your personal life are safe with me," he reassured.

Lassiter gave him a melancholy smile. "I'm gonna pass out now, Spencer."

Shawn huffed a small laugh and shook his head. He rose from his spot next to Lassiter on the couch and grabbed the empty glass off the coffee table. He disappeared into the kitchen, refilled the glass, and set it gently back on the coffee table. "Stay hydrated, Lassie," he whispered. A blanket on the back of the couch caught his eye and he pulled it down over the lanky detective.

Quietly, Shawn made his way to the door and saw himself out. He, of course, didn't have his bike so he was either going to have to call Gus for a ride or walk home. His feet made up his mind for him and he headed off for his place. He didn't want to explain what he was doing at Lassiter's place at midnight anyway.

As his sneakers padded gently over the concrete sidewalk, Shawn thought about just what he _was_  doing at Lassiter's place at midnight. Lassiter had opened up to him. Kind of. In a way. He hadn't yelled at Shawn once so he was definitely going to count it as 'opening up'. Shawn smiled to himself and thought about how gentle the detective's voice had been, how thick his hair had looked in the soft lamp-light of his living room. He was... feeling things for Lassiter and he couldn't ignore it anymore. He picked up his pace, eager to be on his way.

* * *

Gus walked through the door of the Psych office at eight the next morning and nearly dropped his coffee. Shawn was already there, typing away at his computer. He raised his pineapple smoothie at Gus in greeting and smiled before turning his attention back to whatever was on his monitor.

"What are you doing here before noon?" Gus asked in mild disbelief.

"We have a case, Gus! I'm working it." Shawn swiveled around in his office chair and stood. He crossed the office to the printer and snatched some papers from the tray. "Did you know Sam Martin has a nasty online gambling problem?"

Gus stared at the papers Shawn handed him. "Being addicted to online gambling doesn't make someone a murderer, Shawn."

"No, but being seventy-thousand dollars in debt while your father-in-law sits on a 'gold mine' of a vineyard is one hell of a motive," Shawn declared proudly.

Gus set his coffee on his desk and carefully scanned the papers Shawn had printed. Sure enough, right there in black and white, was all the proof that Sam Martin was indeed massively in debt. "How did you find this?" Gus asked in bewilderment.

"I came back to the office last night after I... couldn't sleep and started going over our info on Sam again. I checked out his Facebook page and came across an old high school nick-name people kept using repeatedly cause that's apparently something hip adults do and decided to search that and see what came up. Seems he'd used it as a screen-name for some online gambling site and, well, one thing lead to another and I found out he owes some people some big money," Shawn rambled excitedly.

"You've been here all night?" Gus blurted out in disbelief.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I give you all that information and _that's_  what you pick up on? Come on, man! This is a substantial, workable lead! This is the kind of thing we take to Lassie and Jules."

Gus fished his keys out of his coat pocket and nodded. "Let's go then."

At the precinct, Shawn strolled through the doors dramatically. "I'm seeing... kings and queens. Chips. Dice," he called as he stomped through the building.

Juliet turned abruptly in her chair to watch the spectacle. Shawn winked at her. Lassiter groaned from his desk as Shawn approached them. He took a bottle of painkillers from the top drawer of his desk and popped two in his mouth, washing them down with half a mug of luke-warm coffee.

Shawn flung himself down on Lassiter's desk and went on, albeit in a quieter tone. "The spirits are telling me something! High stakes, big risks, excitement!"

"Gambling!" Juliet called excitedly.

Shawn pointed at her dramatically. "Bingo! I'm sensing someone close to Travis Daniels was heavily into gambling. Someone in his family. They can't stop, the rush is too much. But they also can't stop losing money. A viscous cycle."

Lassiter shut his eyes slowly and leaned back in his chair. Shawn noticed he was paler than usual, tie knotted sloppily, hair sticking up in some spots. He was most definitely suffering through a monster of a hangover.

Shawn frowned and resisted the urge to reach over and straighten the man's tie for him. Instead he hopped off the detective's desk and looked at him seriously. "The spirits think you should look into Travis' family. Also that Lassie should get some saltine crackers and Gatorade. Seriously, dude, you look like hell."

Lassiter scowled. "You're always such a joy to have at the precinct, Spencer," he mumbled sarcastically.

"Aw, Lassie, I like spending time with you too!"

Lassiter flipped him off as he jammed the bottle of painkillers back into his desk drawer.

Gus jabbed Shawn in the ribs. "He seems four-hundred percent more likely to shoot you today, let's go before you say something that _really_  pisses him off."

Shawn tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. He glanced at Lassiter just as the man was rubbing at his temples, eyes squeezed shut. "Fair enough," he whispered to his friend. "Gus and I have to get lunch now before the taco truck leaves the parking lot back at the office. Interpreting messages from the spirit world really works up an appetite." He made his way back to the doors of the precinct. "Feel better, Lassie," he called over his shoulder.

Simultaneously Gus and Juliet looked over at Lassiter, expecting a gruff response from the man. To their astonishment his lips turned up ever so slightly instead.

* * *

It was around eleven-thirty that night when Shawn's phone started ringing. He sat up in a daze from where he'd slumped over on the couch in his sleep. _Die Hard_ played loudly through the speakers of his TV and Shawn scrambled for the remote before accepting the call.

"Spencer?" a gruff voice on the other end of the call questioned.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Who's this?"

"Dean from Tom Blair's Pub. Your friend Carlton is here and he's, uh, gonna need a ride home."

Shawn pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it in confusion. "Carlton? Carlton Lassiter?

"Can you come and get him or not?" the gruff voice demanded.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Shawn answered in a rush. He ended the call and hunted down his keys.

Lassiter looked worse than he had the night before as he swayed precariously on a barstool. His tie was completely gone and he seemed to be arguing with the bartender. Shawn approached the bar carefully and clapped Lassiter on the shoulder.

"Lassie, Lassie, Lassie, you've really done it this time haven't you? What's going on?"

"He wants his phone and keys back," the bartender barked.

Shawn recognized that voice. "Dean, right? I'm the guy you called. I've come to collect as promised." The bartender shrugged and handed him Lassiter's keys and phone. Shawn gave him a charming smile and nudged Lassiter off his barstool. "Dude," he hissed in the detective's ear, "What the hell are you doing, trying to set a world record for liver failure?"

Lassiter blinked a few times and stared at Shawn as he leaned fully onto the shorter man. "When did you get here?" he slurred in surprise.

Shawn sighed and grabbed Lassiter around the waist, herding the man toward the door. "Let's get you home and get some water in you," he muttered as they finally made it to the parking lot. "I'm flattered you had them call me to come wrangle your drunk ass, by the way."

Lassiter just grunted at him.

It was no easy feat getting Lassiter into the passenger seat of his sedan for the second night in a row. He was drunker than he was the night before and had very little control of his long legs. Shawn persevered though, and somehow got the man shoved into the passenger seat and buckled in. He was sure the whole thing had looked ridiculous but at the moment he was marking it down as a win.

"You can't go all tragic, alcoholic detective on me. It's too clichè, man," Shawn joked weakly as he fastened his own seat belt and started the car. Lassiter didn't even so much as snarl at him. He just stared out the window, deep frown on his face. Shawn pursed his lips and decided to keep quiet for the rest of the ride.

Miraculously, Shawn was able to get Lassiter out of his car and through his front door. Once more he dropped the detective on his couch, turned on the same lamp in the corner of the room and stared at Lassiter. He'd never seen him like this. It made his chest feel tight and uncomfortable.

"What happened to your tie?" Shawn leaned down and pointed to Lassiter's chest.

"D'know," Lassiter shrugged.

Shawn cleared his throat and made his way into the kitchen for a glass of water and painkillers. He took a deep breath before heading back into the living room. Watching Lassiter come apart at the seams was ugly and painful and Shawn just wanted to make it stop.

Silently, Shawn made his way back to the living room. Lassiter was laid out on his couch, hand over his eyes, groaning quietly. Shawn set the glass of water and painkillers down on the coffee table and dragged the lanky detective into a sitting position. He studied the man's face carefully in the soft lamplight. With a shaky hand, he reached out and brushed Lassiter's hair off his forehead.

"Lassie, please, you gotta at least get some water down," Shawn whispered.

Lassiter opened his eyes and searched his dimly lit living room. "Shawn. You came to get me," he chuckled lightly, the smell of bourbon rolling off him in thick waves.

Shawn let our a deep sigh and took Lassiter's face in his hands. "Lassie, look at me. You can't do this to yourself. First of all cause I won't let you, and second of all cause you're a better man than this."

The detective studied him carefully and took in a ragged breath. "I'm not. I couldn't even keep my wife around," he choked out.

Shawn shook his head and swiped his thumb over Lassiter's cheek. "Being a cop's spouse isn't for everyone. Trust me, I know all about that. Doesn't mean it was your fault. Or her fault. Some people just don't understand the job. The commitment and demand. Sometimes people don't work out, and it sucks, but you gotta keep going."

Lassiter swayed and stared at Shawn in disbelief. Shawn slid his hands from Lassiter's face and grabbed the water and painkillers off the coffee table. The detective held out his hand as Shawn dispensed two pills into his palm. The feeling of Shawn's warm fingertips grazing his palm as he pressed the pills into his hand made Lassiter's eyes slip closed. He gulped down half the cool water as he knocked back the pills.

The silence of the room threatened to swallow Shawn whole. He stuck his hands awkwardly in his pockets and watched Lassiter finish the glass of water. "You want something to eat?" he asked cautiously.

"There's some crackers in the pantry," Lassiter replied.

Shawn smiled and went to locate the crackers. It didn't take him long and he was quickly back in the living room, sitting next to Lassiter on his couch coaxing him into putting something in his stomach. "I think, maybe, _possibly_ , you should call out of work tomorrow," he added as an afterthought.

Lassiter looked over at him in shock, cracker crumbs sloppily stuck to his lips. "Absolutely not. I haven't missed work in years."

Shawn winced and grabbed a cracker for himself. "Lassie, no offense, but if you could see yourself right now, I think you'd agree with me."

Lassiter exhaled raggedly and wiped his mouth with his hand. "God, I'm a disaster. No wonder I'm alone." He stared down at the box of crackers in his lap and ignored the burning sensation behind his eyes.

"Hey, rude, I'm sitting right here," Shawn huffed.

"You know what I meant, Shawn."

"Yeah, yeah, you're wallowing. I know. But you'll be okay, Lassie. You're not a half-bad human being. You're passionate about your line of work. You've got great hair. The sternbush speaks to your virility. Some seriously Sinatra-level blue eyes. I mean --" Shawn trailed off as he suddenly forgot the point he was trying to make. He glanced over at Lassiter who was watching him carefully.

The detective stared in silent shock, unable to formulate a response. Shawn squirmed under his gaze. Lassiter swallowed hard and tilted his head to the side. "I, uh... thanks, Shawn," he stammered.

Shawn smiled at him. "That's the third time tonight you've called me by my first name, don't think I didn't catch that. Are you finally warming up to me, Lassie?"

Despite himself, Lassiter laughed. "I'm pretty drunk if you haven't noticed."

Shawn nodded slowly. "I did notice. It's impossible _not_  to notice. No offense, but you're a really sloppy drunk."

Lassiter chuckled before taking another bite of a cracker, crumbs falling into his lap.

Shawn stood up from the couch abruptly, suddenly needing to put physical space between him and the fact that he thought Lassiter drunkenly eating crackers was _cute_. "You should get some rest. At least consider taking the day off tomorrow? Two monster hangovers two days in a row will be literal hell, man. You'll need the rest, or else you're gonna look like the Crypt Keeper tomorrow at work and everyone is going to be asking you why."

Lassiter groaned at the thought. He threw the last half of the cracker he was eating back in the box. Shawn started to move for the door and Lassiter reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Hey, uh, thanks for, you know, everything," he said sheepishly.

Shawn smiled warmly at the disheveled man covered in cracker crumbs. "No problem."

* * *

Gus was again shocked when he walked into the Psych office the next morning and found Shawn there. This time, however, his friend was sprawled out on the couch mumbling in his sleep, the credits of the third _Die Hard_ movie scrolling on the TV. He turned the TV off and shook Shawn awake. "Long night?"

Shawn rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. "You have _no_  idea. What are you doing here?"

Gus huffed indignantly. "I actually do things around here, Shawn. I check our answering service, the emails, go over our calendar --"

"You're putting off making your pharmaceutical rounds until that cute receptionist is back at that doctor's office, aren't you?" Shawn cut in, reigning in a yawn.

Gus leered at his friend. "That's not important, Shawn. Why are you sleeping here? What happened last night?" he asked before taking a long sip of coffee.

Shawn stood from the couch and stretched. "Partied too hard, Gus. Really went out and lived it up. Would have made Ferris Bueller jealous." He stifled another yawn and made his way to the fridge.

"All of your _Die Hard_ DVD's are out on the coffee table, Shawn," Gus pointed out.

Shawn sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I had to go pick up Lassie from a bar last night," he mumbled quickly.

Gus laughed loudly. "Yeah, right. Lassie got drunk? In public? And called _you_  to come pick him up?"

"Well, technically the bartender called me after he confiscated Lassie's phone and keys," Shawn countered earnestly.

Gus gawked at Shawn. "You're serious. You're _serious_? You went and played designated driver for Lassie last night?"

"And the night before," Shawn muttered as he poured some orange juice into a mostly-clean glass. It took his brain a minute, but he finally registered what he'd just admitted. His eyes went wide and he stared at Gus.

"The night before? Shawn, what's going on?" Gus asked, approaching his friend.

Shawn took his orange juice and plopped back down on the sofa. "This is really a pineapple smoothie kind of conversation --"

"Spill," Gus interjected.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Fine. After Lassie's whole failed reconciliatory dinner date with Victoria he, uh, kinda entered an ugly downward spiral. Like Indy drinking in a tavern with a monkey after he thinks Marion's dead kind of downward spiral."

Gus winced. He couldn't imagine Lassiter getting that low. The man was quick to anger, sure, but he wasn't usually one for moping. Not for long anyway. And certainly not in public. It had to be bad. "So he really took that whole thing bad, huh?"

"That would be the understatement of the year, dude. When I left him last night he reeked of Jim Beam and was covered in cracker crumbs. I still have no idea what happened to his tie... It was bad," Shawn admitted.

"When you left him?" Gus asked curiously.

"I couldn't just dump him on his sidewalk, Gus. He was _really_  drunk. I made sure he got some water and painkillers and crackers. You know I'm overly compassionate. Some have even called me the Mother Teresa of Santa Barbara. I was just doing the humane thing --"

"Last week I watched you snatch the last bag of mini powdered donuts off a self in the grocery store before an elderly woman could grab them," Gus interrupted.

Shawn waved a dismissive hand at his friend. "We're all works in progress, Gus." He gulped down the rest of his orange juice and wiped his mouth sloppily. "I told Lassie to take the day off too. We should go by the precinct and see if he took my advice. If he didn't you'll get a first-person look at the world's worst hangover!"

Gus shrugged. "If Lassie pulls a gun on us though, that's on you."

Shawn smiled and straightened out his wrinkled shirt.

The pair arrived at the precinct a little after noon. Officers were still shuffling in from their lunch breaks, the building buzzed with activity. Shawn saw Juliet immediately, typing away on her keyboard. He could just make out what was on her screen. Susan Daniels was scheduled to come back to the precinct that same day for a follow up interview. Perfect.

"The spirits have told me I need to be here today. Someone is going to be here. I have to talk to them. They're insistent," Shawn declared loudly.

Somewhere behind Juliet someone moaned loudly. Shawn furrowed his brow. He recognized that cry of agony. "Lassie?"

Sure enough Lassiter's head popped up off his desk. Shawn made his way over to the detective's desk quickly. "I thought I told you to take the day off," he hissed at the extremely hungover man slumped over in front of him.

Lassiter focused his bloodshot eyes as best he could on Shawn. "I'm fine," he snarled weakly. There was no bite behind it though, he didn't have the energy for it. Shawn doubted he had the energy to stand at the moment. Gatorade sat at the edge of his desk, a familiar looking box of crackers next to it. Cracker crumbs were scattered across his keyboard.

"I told him to go home! He looks like death!" Juliet chided from her desk.

Shawn pursed his lips. "Lassie, can I talk to you for a minute? I'm getting a very, _very_  strong message from the spirits for you. Of the... personal nature." He didn't wait for an answer as he grabbed Lassiter by the hands and hauled him out of his chair. The larger man groaned loudly and swayed to the side. Shawn put an arm around his waist and walked him to an empty conference room.

He and Lassiter disappeared into the room and Shawn shut the door and drew all the blinds to give them some privacy. Juliet leveled a puzzled look at Gus and he just shrugged at her.

Shawn dropped Lassiter unceremoniously into an uncomfortable office chair. He groaned again. "What the hell, man? I told you you were gonna look like the Crypt Keeper today and you didn't listen. You look worse than the Crypt Keeper, by the way. I don't even have a point of reference for how rough you look right now," he reprimanded.

Lassiter grunted inelegantly. "And I told you, I haven't missed work in years."

"Lassie, you don't look fit enough to microwave a cup of noodles let alone _carry a gun and do police work_. I told you I wasn't going to let you do this to yourself. Get up, I'll drive you home."

Shawn headed for the door but Lassiter didn't budge. "I'm not going home and I certainly don't need you playing nursemaid. Just... leave me alone, Spencer," he groused.

Shawn stopped dead in his tracks. "Excuse me? So I can pick you up from a bar in the middle of the night and drive you home and force water and painkillers into you and have little heart-to-heart chats but this, trying to make you understand that you're not capable of doing your job today cause you're hungover, this is too much?"

Lassiter closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, a deep sigh escaping him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, barely comprehensible. "I feel like shit, obviously, and I haven't had anything to eat besides crackers 'cause I don't know if I can even eat anything else and I'm just... tired."

Shawn chewed at his bottom lip. His chest felt tight again and he couldn't bear it. He walked over and put both of his hands on Lassiter's shoulders. "I swear to god, I won't say anything to anyone in the precinct, I'll tell 'em you have the flu or something, but you've _gotta_  go home, dude. Juliet was looking at you like you were going to drop dead right there at your desk." He rubbed absently at the man's broad shoulders and he felt the detective lean into his hands. "Please?" Shawn asked so delicately it sounded like a prayer.

It took all of his strength, but Lassiter pried his eyes open to look at Shawn. He stood so close in front of Lassiter, concern etched deep on his face. Lassiter wondered when he'd become so accepting of the 'psychic' wandering into his personal space. The man's hands slid lower and grabbed at the detective's hands, tugged him out of the chair he was in, and Lassiter hummed lightly. He was in no condition to lecture Shawn about personal space.

"You're going to march into Vick's office and tell her you need to take the rest of the day off and then I'm going to drive you home," Shawn insisted gently.

Lassiter nodded as best he could and let Shawn lead him to the Chief's office. Once he'd deposited the man in her office, he pulled Gus aside.

"Dude, I have to take him home. He can't work like this. I need you to cover for me here. The Daniels widow is coming down here in a little bit, I saw Juliet's schedule. You've gotta question her for me," Shawn explained in a hushed tone.

Gus stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me, Shawn? You came down here and said _you_  had to talk to someone here. What am I supposed to tell everyone? 'Oh sorry, Shawn can't be here right now cause Lassie has a tummy ache?'"

Shawn scowled and made his way to Juliet. "Jules, I'm afraid Lassie is not only physically ill but spiritually limping along as well. I'm going to take him home and do an aura cleanse. He needs it desperately."

Juliet gasped quietly. "Are you sure? Is he okay? What's going on?"

"Everything will be fine, Jules. I'll fix him up good as new, don't worry your beautiful golden head. He'll be right as rain soon, trust me," Shawn reassured. "I know the spirits called me here today to speak to someone too, do you know who that could be?" he continued on.

Juliet thought for a moment. "Maybe. Susan Daniels, Travis Daniels' widow, is coming in today for another interview. We were just going to ask her some more questions about her family, like you suggested. I can handle it without Lassiter though, it's fine."

"Do you think Gus could ask her some questions of his own? For me?" Shawn asked coyly.

Juliet nodded and reassured Shawn that Gus could stay, just as long as he helped fix whatever was wrong with her partner. Shawn gave her a confident smile and thanked her profusely. Lassiter finally reemerged from the Chief's office and Shawn made a beeline for the taller man, slinging one of the detective's arms over his shoulder before he could fall over.

"It'll be fine, Jules, I've got this. Thanks. See you back at the office, Gus!" Shawn called as he yet again herded Lassiter out to his own sedan. At least this time the lanky man could get himself mostly in the car on his own.

* * *

Shawn helped Lassiter hobble into his bedroom and lowered the larger man down onto his mattress delicately. He pulled the detective's shoes and socks off, worked his tie loose. Lassiter leaned back into his pillows and let out a deep breath. Neither one of them had spoken since they'd left the precinct, Shawn figured Lassiter was too out of it to hold even a basic conversation. But letting Shawn remove his shoes and tie without protest? The man must have felt like he was at death's door.

Lassiter eyed Shawn as he put his shoes over by the bedroom door. He wasn't sure why Shawn had been friendly to him lately. He was still a giant pain in Lassier's ass, without a doubt, but he was also being extremely helpful and caring and that confused the detective. He wanted to ask Shawn what exactly was going on, but his eyelids were so heavy.

"I'll, uh, I'll be back in a few, okay?" Shawn said, gesturing toward the door.

"You don't have to stick around," Lassiter slurred from his mountain of pillows.

Shawn chewed his lip. "I know. I want to." He stared holes into Lassiter's carpet, unable to look the man in the eye.

Lassiter looked at Shawn in confusion for a moment and then, without a word, he was gone. For a split second he contemplated calling after him to see where he was going, but his bed was too comfortable. Within minutes he was sleeping soundly.

Shawn strolled through the door of the Psych office about half an hour later, pineapple smoothie in one hand a grocery bag in the other.

Gus popped his head up from behind his desktop monitor and squinted at Shawn. "What's in the bag?" he called.

Shawn gasped and nearly dropped his smoothie. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to interview the widow for me, dude! Why aren't you at the precinct?"

"Juliet said Mrs. Daniels won't be in until after three, so I came back to the office to check my email. What are _you_  doing here? I thought you were over at Lassie's playing nursemaid for the afternoon."

"Gus, that's what I'm doing. I went to the store for soup and crackers and some juice. Came by the office to pick up some movies. All the makings of Shawn Spencer's Miracle Hangover Cure."

Gus rolled his eyes at his friend. "Why are you being so nice to him anyway? You think he would do this stuff for you?"

"It's called extending an apple branch, Gus."

"It's _olive_  branch, Shawn, and you absolutely have not heard it both ways. Still don't understand why you're going to all this trouble for Lassiter," Gus retorted.

Shawn noisily finished the rest of his smoothie and shrugged. "I don't know. Seemed like the right thing to do. He's like a little injured bird since his disaster-dinner with Victoria, his little wing is broken. He needs help. It would be inhumane not to help him out."

Gus narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Do you... have _feelings_  for Lassie?"

Shawn's eyes went wide and he turned away from Gus, dropping his empty smoothie cup in the trash can. "I don't know why you would ask such a ridiculous question. He's a friend. Sort of. It's --"

"You just said he was like a _wounded bird_ , Shawn," Gus interjected.

Shawn took a steadying breath and turned to face Gus. "Okay, okay, so maybe I have some _tiny_  inkling of some sort of a... feeling for Lassie. It's not totally bizarre if you think about it, really."

"I'm not even sure what to say to you right now," Gus stated plainly.

"Then you could be happy and supportive?" Shawn suggested optimistically.

"You better know what you're doing, Shawn. Lassie isn't the kind of guy you play games with. And not just because he carries a gun. He takes relationships seriously," Gus chided.

Shawn snatched a few DVD's off a shelf near the TV. "Have faith, Gus. I know what I'm doing. Well, I know what I  _want_  to be doing --"

"Do not finish that thought."

"I was going to say taking it slow with Lassie and seeing where this goes, pervert. Get to church, Gus!"

Gus clucked his tongue at Shawn and waved him off. "Fine. Go take care of your wounded bird."

Shawn smiled at his friend and exited the office before he could lecture him any further.

* * *

Lassiter heard the front door of his house rattle, the door open quietly. He reached for the gun in his nightstand drawer. Lying very still, he waited for whatever criminal was dumb enough to break into his house, gun pointed at the bedroom door.

Shawn shrieked at the top of his lungs when he popped his head in Lassiter's room. "Jesus, Lassie, I come to cure your hangover and you greet me at gunpoint?"

"I didn't know it was you! I thought you left." Lassiter put the safety back on the weapon and pulled his finger off the trigger. Silently, the gun went back in the nightstand. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "What are you doing back here?"

"I told you I was coming back! I wasn't kidding. I got you some soup and stuff at the store. Brought some DVD's over. All the necessary items for Shawn Spencer's Miracle Hangover Cure. You'll be feeling better in no time," Shawn explained.

Lassiter sighed and swung his legs off his bed. "I'm not getting rid of you, am I?"

"Not a chance. Soup's already on the stove. _Gremlins_  is in the DVD player. Just waiting on you," Shawn said excitedly.

Lassiter nodded slowly. "Let me change."

Shawn had to physically contain the squeal that wanted to launch itself from his lips. "Yeah, cool, totally. I'll be out in the front room."

It took Lassiter about ten minutes to change and in that time Shawn had gotten two bowls of soup ready, a box of crackers opened, and two glasses of juice poured. Everything sat out on the coffee table, waiting for the detective. Shawn sat on the couch patiently waiting to hit the 'play' button on the DVD.

"You didn't have to do all of this," Lassiter muttered as he plopped down on his couch and reached for a bowl of soup. Shawn couldn't take his eyes off the soft, powder blue pajama set Lassiter had on. He nodded wordlessly at the man. "You gonna play your movie or --" Lassiter trailed off, nodding at the TV.

Shawn swallowed thickly and hit play. His eyes were still stuck on Lassiter.

"Do I have soup on my face or something?" he questioned, wiping at his mouth.

Shawn cleared his throat. "No, I, uh... you're fine. It's fine. Movie time!" he stammered. "This is one of my favorites, guaranteed to heal what ails you. Even if it's too much bourbon in your bloodstream."

Lassiter focused on the TV. "I haven't watched this in forever," he said around a spoonful of chicken noodle soup.

Shawn quirked a brow at him. "You've seen _Gremlins_?"

"I was a kid once, Spencer. I wasn't hatched."

"Why's everyone have bird metaphors today?" Shawn muttered under his breath.

Lassiter looked at him quizzically. Shawn smiled nervously and focused his attention on the movie. Slowly, he leaned forward and grabbed the remaining bowl of soup off the coffee table. He ate a few spoonfuls in silence, trying to focus on one of his favorite films. Lassiter and his soft pajamas were making it difficult. He was halfway through his bowl of soup when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

' _Susan Daniels just told me her son-in-law has been pressuring her to sell the vineyard_ '

Shawn smiled slyly at the text from Gus. He knew it! They'd nail the scumbag. Just as soon as Lassiter was back to his usual self.

Lassiter furrowed his brow and set his empty bowl on the coffee table. "You need to go?"

Shawn locked his phone and slid it back in his pocket. "Nah, it's cool. Gus can handle things for a night."

"What's going on, Spencer?" Lassiter asked seriously.

Shawn finished his soup and deposited the bowl on the coffee table next to Lassiter's. "It was just Gus with an update on the Daniels case, but it's honestly nothing he can't handle for the night. I'm good to --"

"No, I mean, with... this," Lassiter interrupted, gesturing vaguely between himself, Shawn and the TV.

Shawn looked down at his shoes, at their empty bowls on the coffee table, at anything but Lassiter and his soft blue pajamas. The detective squinted at him. "I felt bad for you, Lassie," Shawn mumbled.

Lassiter sat still and stared at the man sharing his couch with him. "Why?"

Shawn took a deep breath and looked up at Lassiter. "Because you're not a bad guy, Lassie. You don't deserve to be alone, wallowing in sadness. I care about you, man." He held his breath as Lassiter studied him carefully. The movie played on in the background, forgotten.

"Yesterday I would have sworn that your only goal life was to irritate me into an early grave and now you're telling me you _care_  about me?" Lassiter asked quietly.

Shawn chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "You ever think I irritate you 'cause I just enjoy watching you turn a cute shade of pink?"

Lassiter sat back on his couch, staring at his lap. "What are you saying, Spencer?"

"I'm saying that I care about you and I don't want you to be sad. I'm saying your sternbush drives me crazy. Your eyes are like my third-favorite shade of blue. You never give up on a case, even when you're _way_  off-base. Because you never stop believing in justice. You're like... amazing." Shawn glanced at the TV and back at Lassiter and his pajamas. He was staring silently at Shawn like he'd grown a second head.

Shawn started panicking as the silence between them stretched on. "You know what, that was too much to dump on you right now. I can go." He stood and started to walk by Lassiter, on his way to the front door.

Lassiter grabbed Shawn's wrist as he passed by. "Stay," he whispered, barely audible. Shawn smiled warmly at him. He said nothing, just sat back down on the couch, focused on the TV.

Slowly, Lassiter scooted closer to him and laid back against the couch. "Wait, what are your first two favorite shades of blue?" he asked seriously, turning his head in Shawn's direction.

"Really, dude?" Shawn laughed. He leaned back on the couch and rested his head near Lassiter's. He laughed and Shawn hummed contentedly. "I don't know, I might have to go over my list again." He reached out tentatively and linked his pinkie with Lassiter's. "Maybe you could help me with it."

"I could see if I have some free time," Lassiter conceded, wrapping his pinkie tighter around Shawn's.

They focused back on the movie, enjoying the calm quiet that overtook the room. It didn't take long for the pair to doze off, heads resting close on the back of the couch, pinkies locked together between them.

* * *

The next day Shawn strolled through the door of the Psych office around noon. Gus sat as his desk typing away. He looked up when he heard someone come through the door.

"See, now this is what I'm used to. You showing up at noon, shirt wrinkled, hair mussed, and... oh my god you slept at Lassiter's last night, didn't you?" Gus blurted out loudly.

Shawn smoothed out his t-shirt. "I was a complete gentleman! We fell asleep on the couch and went no further than some serious hand-holding."

Gus put up a hand. "I don't need to know what happens on your weird home-dates with Lassie. I just want to make sure they don't end up getting me shot."

"Gus, if anything we're _less_  likely to be shot now that Lassie isn't all mopey and grumpy and alone!"

Gus cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. Shawn's argument wasn't totally flawed. "Fair enough."

Shawn beamed at him. "I'm so honored we have your blessing, Gus."

Gus just rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about this with you right now, Shawn. There's more important things going on. Susan Daniels said yesterday that her son-in-law is eager to see their family vineyard sold. She broke down in tears when she told me. Said she'd never sell the place."

Shawn nodded in understanding. "I think we should talk to the daughter again. See what she has to say about her husband's behavior since her father's death."

Gus agreed and shortly the two were out the door headed to the Martin household once again. When they arrived, there was only one car in the driveway. Shawn rang the doorbell and waited patiently.

Jennifer Martin answered the door in what looked like pajamas, eyes swollen and red. She looked even worse than the first time Shawn and Gus had seen her, right after her father had been killed. Shawn glanced at Gus and rubbed Jennifer's shoulder comfortingly.

"Mrs. Martin, if now isn't a good time, we can certainly come back another time," Gus stated gently.

Jennifer sniveled and shook her head. "No, no, it's all right. I've just... Sam and I had a fight last night and he went to stay at a friend's."

"Can I ask what you and your husband fought about?" Shawn asked carefully.

"He wants my mom to sell the vineyard. Says we could all benefit. I just don't even know how he could think like that right now. Who wants to _benefit_  right now? You know?" Jennifer explained curtly.

Gus gave Shawn a knowing look while Jennifer wiped her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Martin," Shawn said, folding his hand in front of him. "We can come back later, all right?"

Jennifer nodded and gave Shawn a tight smile. "Thank you."

Shawn and Gus exited the home, discussing what their next move was, when they ran into Juliet and Lassiter coming up the driveway.

"What are you two doing here?" Lassiter barked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Shawn countered smartly.

Lassiter rolled his eyes behind his aviators. "We're the police."

"And we were hired by the police."

"We actually have badges. _Real_  jobs to do here and --"

"We're all just trying to close this case. What'd you find out, Shawn?" Juliet interjected calmly.

"We came to talk to Sam, the son-in-law, but he's not here," Shawn explained vaguely.

Juliet nodded. Lassiter removed his sunglasses and gave Shawn a curious look and cleared his throat. Shawn squinted at him. "Lassie, how are you feeling today? My _senses_  are telling me you're feeling much better. My aura cleansing must have really helped you."

Lassiter grabbed Shawn roughly by the arm and dragged him away. Juliet looked at Gus questioningly, and he just nodded in response.

"What are you doing, Spencer?" Lassiter demanded.

"Checking up on your well-being, Lassie!"

"You know I'm fine. Can we just... not talk about this? During work hours?"

"Talk about what? Us falling asleep holding hands on your couch last night?" Shawn asked innocently.

"Yes," Lassiter hissed. "I just... don't want my personal life on display for the department, okay?"

"Fine. Totally understandable, man. I get it. During work, everything will be professional and by the book. After work we --" Shawn trailed off and smiled slyly at the detective.

Before Lassiter could respond, Shawn brought his hand to him temple and gasped loudly. "I'm seeing something. Late night arguments. Finger pointing. This house's energy is negative today! There's immense anger here," he exclaimed.

Juliet perked up from where she stood next to Gus. "Did the Martin's have a fight?" she asked eagerly.

"It would certainly seem that way," Shawn said with a confident nod. "I think that might be worth checking out." Juliet turned and headed for the front door. Shawn patted Lassiter quickly on the ass and then made his way to the Blueberry. Lassiter gaped at him as he walked away.

Gus walked quickly to catch up to Shawn and slid into the driver's seat. "What's our next move?" he asked.

Shawn shrugged. "I kinda think, hear me out on this one, that we should let Jules and Lassie take it from here." He stared out the passenger window of the small hatchback to where the detectives stood at the Martin's front door.

"Have you suffered any blows to the head recently?" Gus inquired.

"Look, Lassie could use a win right now, that's all," Shawn muttered.

"I understand you have... feelings for Lassiter, but I'd like to close this case and get paid, Shawn."

"We still get paid if we don't close the case. We've put days of work into it. It'll be fine, Gus," Shawn reasoned.

Gus sighed and started the car.

* * *

The next day Shawn got a call from Juliet letting him know they were going to be bringing in Sam Martin to question him. He thanked her and let her know he and Gus would be by later that day.

It took some pleading by Shawn, and he had to promise not to log onto Gus' dating profile and accept terrible date offers for a two solid months, but he got Gus to go along with his idea of letting Lassiter close the case.

"You're really serious about this thing with Lassie, aren't you?" Gus asked as he steered the Blueberry toward the SPBD precinct.

Shawn sighed and rested his forehead against the window. "I don't even know how it happened. One day I was antagonizing him at the precinct and the next I was jealous over whoever might have a date with him."

Gus nearly slammed on the breaks. "So _that's_  why you were so insistent we go spy on his date? You were _jealous_?"

"Yeah, man. I thought that was kind of obvious to be honest," Shawn mumbled as he fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie.

Gus sighed and pulled into the first open parking spot he could find at the precinct. "I was more concerned with the case we were supposed to be working, Shawn." He threw the car in park and turned to face his friend. "Look, as long as this whole thing with Lassie doesn't get a gun shoved in my face, I'm going to be supportive, okay? Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Shawn beamed at his friend. "I appreciate it, man."

The pair exited the car and made their way up the stairs into the precinct. Once inside they caught Juliet at her desk. She explained Lassiter already had Sam Martin down in an interrogation room. "I was just grabbing some files for him. You want to go observe?" she asked.

Shawn jumped at the chance and led the way to the interrogation rooms. He could see Lassiter hard at work through the two-way mirror, trying to get Sam Martin to cop to the murder of his father-in-law. His sport coat was flung over the back of an uncomfortable chair, tie hanging loose around his neck. The sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up messily on his strong forearms. Shawn swallowed thickly and nodded at Juliet.

"What do you have on him?" Shawn asked, voice just a touch too high.

"Well, we checked up on your gambling lead and discovered Sam Martin owes a lot of money to online gambling sites. He's been desperate for money for months. And just yesterday his wife told us he'd been pressuring her mother into selling their vineyard to split the profits among the family. We ran a check and it turns out Sam Martin owns a .22 caliber handgun, same caliber used in the murder of Travis Daniels," Juliet explained succinctly.

Shawn nodded, impressed. "Should be open and shut if Lassie can get a confession."

Juliet agreed and focused her attention back on her partner. "He's been in there for forty-five minutes already. I think he's close though. Sam looks ready to fold."

Shawn again stared through the two-way mirror. Sam Martin sat with his elbows propped up on the table in the interrogation room, head hanging heavy in his hands. Everything about him screamed he was a man with a guilty conscience. It would only be a matter of time before Lassiter got what he was after. Shawn smiled to himself.

"I think Lassie's got this one, Gus. We should take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and catch the churro guy while he's still out on the boardwalk!" Shawn announced confidently.

Gus gave him a questioning gaze. He didn't have time to protest before Shawn was dragging him out of the precinct.

"You don't want to stick around to see what happens?" Juliet called after the pair.

"He's got this, I can _sense_  it. Trust me, Jules, he doesn't need me on this one."

Juliet shrugged and went back to watching her partner.

* * *

Gus watched as Shawn scarfed down two churros in record time. "You better not be trying to 'train your body' for a competitive eating contest again, Shawn. That was easily the grossest week of my life."

Shawn wiped his mouth and tossed his churro wrappers in a nearby trash can. "No, sadly I've given up on that dream. But I did have some plans for the rest of my day."

Gus narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Like what? Lassiter and Juliet are solving our case at the precinct as we speak. There's nothing left to do."

"There's nothing left to do for people without social lives, Gus. _I_  on the other hand do have a social life and have other plans for the evening."

"I have a social life, Shawn! It's Tuesday. Not exactly a prime night for going out on the town."

Shawn tilted his head to the side and considered Gus' words. "Fair. Still doesn't change the fact that I have plans I have to go prepare for." He waved to Gus and walked off through the parking lot to his bike. Gus watched as Shawn took off and shrugged. If Shawn was taking the night off, so was he. He had a DVR full of shows to catch up on with his name on it back home.

Shawn was shocked how easily he'd gotten everything ready for his big night. The trip to the grocery store hadn't taken nearly as long as he'd expected, and everything else he'd needed had been at his own apartment. Breaking into Lassiter's house was a breeze, as always, even if it did make him feel a little bad now. Somehow it seemed wrong now that he'd actually slept on the man's couch with him.

He stood in the living room of Lassiter's place and admired his handiwork. He'd tidied the place up, thrown together a quick spaghetti dinner, and snagged some DVD's from his apartment. All he needed now was the detective to get off work.

It was after six when Lassiter finally came through the door. To Shawn's surprise, he didn't pull his gun. He looked around his house in surprise. Shawn walked out from the kitchen and smiled.

"What's going on?" he asked as Shawn dried his hands on one of his dishtowels.

"How'd the interrogation go?" Shawn countered.

"It went fine. Got a full confession from the son-in-law. He'd wanted Travis Daniels to sell the family vineyard to cover his gambling debts, the greedy bastard. The family is pretty shaken up but justice was served."

"Good work, Lassie!"

"What are you doing here? Did you break in and _clean_  my house?"

"I cooked dinner too," Shawn said eagerly, hooking his thumb behind him toward the kitchen.

"Why?" Lassiter finally dumped his sport coat and holster over an armchair and walked closer to the doorway where Shawn stood. Whatever he'd cooked smelled delicious.

"A congratulatory dinner. For closing the Daniles case and getting your confession," Shawn explained.

"How did you know --"

"Psychic, dude!" Shawn cut in.

Lassiter rolled his eyes but his stomach growled halfway through and he went slightly red. "So do you actually know how to cook or is whatever's in there going to kill me?"

Shawn chuckled and moved aside to let Lassiter into his kitchen. "Believe it or not, I actually can cook a few select recipes. Spaghetti being one of them." He took the lid off a pot on the stove and bowed dramatically. "Dinner is served."

Lassiter nodded, impressed. He moved to grab bowls from a cabinet and Shawn served both of them generous servings of spaghetti. Lassiter started heading for the kitchen table and Shawn placed a hand on the small of his back. "I have a movie in the DVD player for us," he said, leading Lassiter to his living room.

They sat down on the couch and Shawn turned on the TV. Lassiter grinned when he saw the DVD menu. " _Serpico_?" he asked in shock.

Shawn nodded, delighted grin on his face. "It's a great movie about a great cop. Figured it'd be right up your alley. It's not _Beverly Hills Cop_  but Eddie Murphy can't do everything."

Lassiter huffed a laugh and took a bite of his spaghetti. "Why'd you do all this?" he asked, wiping marinara sauce from the corners of his mouth.

"I told you, to congratulate you on getting your confession." Lassiter just stared at Shawn. "I may have also wanted to do dinner and a movie with you when you weren't more hungover than a frat boy at UC Santa Barbara."

Lassiter gave Shawn a shy smile. "You really, uh, meant all that stuff you said that night?"

Shawn set his bowl down on the coffee table and put his hands in his lap. "Of course I did, Lassie. I think you're amazing. And I care about you. And your sternbush. And your hair. And you still have to help me list my favorite shades of blues 'cause your eyes are getting up there, man. And I --"

Lassiter reached out and placed his hand over Shawn's. "You drive me absolutely nuts, Spencer, and I can't believe I'm going to say this but.. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now."  
Shawn linked their fingers together and smiled. "Ditto"

Lassiter rolled his eyes and leaned over into Shawn's space and placed a light kiss to the side of his mouth. "You're an idiot, Spencer," he whispered fondly.

"You could probably call me 'Shawn' now, you know."

"Okay, _Shawn_ , you want to hit 'play' so we can watch our movie?"

Shawn scrambled for the remote and enthusiastically started the movie. He couldn't imagine a better way to spend a Tuesday night.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, but here it is. Hopefully it's enjoyable.
> 
> Kudos and comments literally make my day :)


End file.
